


New Turf

by SullenDragon



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Future Fic, I'll probably get some flak for my OCs but I love them so sorry?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 11:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14236185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullenDragon/pseuds/SullenDragon
Summary: Opportunity knocks. It might be time to seek greener pastures.





	New Turf

**Author's Note:**

> for the bingo prompt "futurefic"

He ignored the phone the first time it rang. The second time was barely five minutes later, and instead of hanging up, the caller let it roll over to the answering machine.

“Detective Ellison, this is Special Agent Charles Ferguson of the FBI. We met last month on the Carrigan case. Call me back at your convenience.”

Blair tumbled down the stairs in a mess of curls and flannel. “Sounds serious, man. Also, that guy’s got a stick up his—”

“I am aware,” Jim said, hitching his hip a little to the left and picking up the pile of papers off the couch cushion next to him. Not exactly the most overt of invitations, but Blair flumped onto the couch anyway. “The guy’s got enough arrogance for the whole D.C. area, but he gets the job done.”

Blair leaned away from him a bit, eyeballing him dramatically. “Does that mean you’re considering it? The job, I mean, not the stick up Fergie’s ass.”

“Well…” Jim wasn’t sure how to explain without hurting any feelings. Ferguson was an odd duck, but his team was good, and if Blair’s new friend had been right and the call was an offer to join the unit… Maybe it was time for a change. “Time to get out of Cascade for a while, you know?” Blair’s slight grin melted into a frown.

“I’m fine, Jim. So good. We don’t have to… just because I’m… Simon’s good to me, skipping the morgue visits and everything. I promise we’re good.” Blair leaned back into Jim’s shoulder, closing his eyes. His forehead scrunched and the crackle of his teeth grinding made Jim flinch. Then Blair relaxed again, and his smile was back full-force.

“It’d look pretty good, though,” Jim said. “Two of Cascade’s finest heading off to the FBI’s fancy-pants unit.” Blair blinked. “What, you think I’d drag you to D.C. and then _not_ convince them that they need you?”

“Man, I don’t think you can get in without some sort of criminology degree. It’s a requirement. Probably.” He snatched the papers out of Jim’s hands, realized they weren’t even a case file, and then handed them back.

“You learned everything you know about the FBI from television.”

“That and your bitching about them. You saying you’re an unreliable source?” Blair elbowed him in the gut and he laughed through his wincing. He retaliated with a grab for Blair’s hip, pressing just insde the bone so that Blair squawked and flailed his arms.

“I’m not even sure Jess has a degree, Sandburg. She’s all caffeine and raw brainpower, and they show her off like she’s their best agent.”

Blair straightened up, indignation clear on his face. “She is their best agent!” Jim patted his head, smoothing out the ruffled, offended feathers.

“Yeah, well, that’s what I’m saying. Fergie— _Ferguson_ can’t be all bad if he puts up with the purple hair cut and the nose ring, right?”

“We wouldn’t even have to learn the dress code. I think she wears flannel and ripped jeans every Wednesday.” Jim stood, dragging Blair with him and dumping the real estate research on the coffee table.

“Not sure he’d let us get away with _that_. She’s a girl-child. And I don’t think I can do the cow eyes right. He’d never go for it.” He dropped his hands onto Sandburg’s shoulders, positioning him next to the kitchen phone. “Stand there, be my moral support. And work your magic on the coffee maker.”

Blair did as instructed, protesting all the way. “Fix my coffee, Sandburg. Hold my hand, Sandburg. If you’re this bad now, what’ll you be like when you’re a bossy ol’ fed?!” Jim picked up the phone and dialed Ferguson’s office number.

“Takes one to know one, Blair-bear. Hello, Special Agent Ferguson? This is Jim Ellison, Cascade PD.”

*

Three cases and three months in, Sandburg found his way into the BAU. Jim had been putting off recommending him; he was pretty sure that Ferguson had pegged them as queer the first time they’d met in Cascade, but there hadn’t been any actual discussion of it. Jess knew, of course, because she had the best gaydar on the East Coast, and because Blair had told her, but Ferguson maintained a professional distance from his team that meant Jim was never entirely sure whether or not he was on Fergie’s Shit List.

Jim and Blair had talked it over, and Jim wasn’t sure the BAU was cut out for Blair. The team got the grittiest of the gritty cases, real whackjobs. They didn’t call in the big guns for cats stuck in trees. So when it came down to it, it was Jess who dragged Blair onto the team. She had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of basically everything the team ever needed to know and they had a techie with magical research skills.

The Egyptian case was weird, though. The killer had a serious thing for ancient rituals of all kinds, some that seemed to be entirely fictional, and all signs pointed to some hard core research on Egypt. About half the replicated tools found on-site turned out to be Mayan, though, and they’d had to bring in an expert because trying to match internet results on Egyptian practices was just taking too long to be feasible.

“There’s got to be a better way to do this,” Ferguson had growled, chewing through his third pack of nicotine gum that day. “Biggest waste of time since last week’s PR meeting.”

Jess had suggested they utilize Blair’s expertise, because she had no sense of timing or subtlety. Jim wasn’t going to admit that he was a little jealous that she’d jumped on the chance to pull Blair in before he could, but at least the blame was all hers.

“Case-by-case consulting only,” Ferguson finally agreed, but Jim saw the resignation in his shoulders. Blair would be in on any case he wanted.

Jim indulged Jess in a none-too-subtle high five, and Jim pulled on his flannel overshirt to head home and inform the consulting anthropologist of his new status.

Maybe he could convince Blair to get a nose ring, too, just to keep Ferguson on his toes.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I had 95% of this written two weeks ago but life has been giving me all kinds of nonsense and I just wasn't quite getting there! And I do maintain that Jess is more my own personal gay icon than a Mary Sue. :) But I'll still love you even if you don't love her.


End file.
